


The Rose and the Thorn

by MyFantasticImagines1



Category: Halloween (2018), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Mental Health Issues, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyFantasticImagines1/pseuds/MyFantasticImagines1
Summary: This was requested by someone on tumblr who wanted me to write about their dream where they were Dr. Loomis' grandchild and they somehow ended up in Smith's Grove and meet the infamous Michael Myers who ended up finding out and thing goes to an 11.
Relationships: Michael Myers & Reader, Samuel Loomis/Michael Myers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. First meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Gender Neutral reader 
> 
> Warnings: vivid details of mental illnesses such as ocd, depression, and excoriation disorder based off of my personal experiences with such disorders. If you are going through a mental illness, please seek out the resources available for your state/ country, doctor Loomis being a jerk

The white walls glared back into your orbs of (e/c) as you tried to gain control over the fact that you're trapped in a room where there's so many germs that's digging into your flesh. You haven't seen the outside world for what seemed like days- two days, six hours, twenty nine minutes and thirty nine seconds exactly. 

Your mentally cursed your parents for deciding to send you to the lovely Smith's Grove because they thought you were a threat to yourself apparently.   
The fingernails scraped the flesh on your thing bittersweet as small droplets of blood appeared; the oh so familiar crimson blood on your irritated skin calmed you down as you hear the door open. 

'Two days, six hours, fifty seven minutes and thirty seconds.' You noted mentally as the security guard cleared his throat, turning your attention to the gentleman.

"(Mr./ Ms.) Loomis, it's time for breakfast." Your dull (e/c) eyes looked at the guard's as you got out of the uncomfortable bed. The well worn thin sandals were the only protection for your feet from the cold floor as you took some steps towards the guard. 

Soft sounds of the jingling of the chains restraining your body echoes through the hall as the guard guided you towards the dinning room. 

The first things that you saw when you entered the dinning room was the way that the tables weren't perfectly aligned and the male sitting alone at one of the back tables. It took you everything to not lash out because of the disorder. 

There was something about the man sitting alone that lured you in as if you were a moth going towards the light. You waiting in line for your food, seeing the cooks scoop chunks of what was assumed to be food onto the plastic tray. 

'I want to rip whoever thought it was a good idea for having the tables this way eyeballs out and shove it down their throats.' You shuddered anxiously from the unpleasant thought as the cook handed the tray to you with her gloved hands. It took you everything in your power to not have an anxiety attack in the middle of the dinning room. 

You walked towards his looming form with your tray in hand as you feel the germs from the tray now tainted your hands. Laying your tray onto the opposite side of the bigger male, you cleared your throat softly.

"Excuse me sir, is this seat taken?" The male looked up at you, his eyes were dull and dead- yet so beautiful. 

"I'm sorry to bother you, I just thought you were lonely and I don't know anyone here. I'm (y/n) by the way." You continued with a small smile as you sat down. He continued to glare into your eyes as if he's trying to see through your words. 

Avoiding the soggy sandwich that you knew that it was contaminated, you opened the small container of chocolate pudding carefully, as if your life depended on it. 

"I like your mask. Did you make it yourself?" You mention nonchalantly, a soft rosy blush rose on your cheek as he crooks his head to the side out of confusion. 

Michael was curious about you to say the least. How could you be so fearless- or reckless and try to be polite to him? Why weren't you afraid of him to the point of even complimenting his mask? He was interested in you to say the least.

As you look back down to the wooden table, the positions of the contents of your tray were crooked. You quickly organized the tray as if it was casual. Michael observed the way you made the contents of your tray perfectly horizontal with the tiny piece of napkin. 

"Would you like my sandwich? I wasn't going to eat it anyway." You offered the sandwich to him.

Michael gently grabbed the sandwich from your tray as he muttered a "Thank you." His voice was a mixture of the rough, baritone rumble that was oddly soothing and a soft raspiness from not speaking for many years. 

Observing from the security station, Samuel Loomis stood beside one of the armed security guards. He watched as you sat at the table with Michael.

"Should we separate them, Loomis? This is your grandchild that's sitting with him." One of the guards asked, trying to conceal the worry tone of his voice.

"No, it seems like Michael is reacting to (y/n)'s presence." Loomis responded as he adjusted his heavy coat and started towards the metal door. 

Doctor Loomis entered through the heavy wooden doors. His crisp and cleaned suit was perfectly fitted to his body. The black leather loafers were polished to the point of shining when the bright lights of the room was lit. 

Loomis made his way towards where the two of you are sitting at. Waves of anxiety flooded your body as you saw grandpa Loomis getting closer. 

Michael watched your expression changed from relaxed into one of worried. Something that was inside of Michael wanted to keep you away from Loomis- from the cruel world that he knows too much about. His eyes darted towards his psychologist as if Michael wanted to kill him for making you feel uncomfortable.

"Good afternoon Michael, (y/n). I see you're taking an interest with my lovely grandchild." 

Loomis sat down at the table with the two of you uninvited as he continues. 

"How have you been doing, (y/n)? I see you're already making friends with another one of my patients." Loomis smiled softly, flashing his teeth softly as you looked away from him. 

"I'm alright, just having the most boring two days of my entire existence until I saw Michael." You responded as your grandfather glared at you with a look of sternness. 

"If you don't mind, my (y/n), I would like to speak with Michael alone." Loomis asked you as he gently touched your shoulder as one of the guards walked towards you.

Anxiety built up inside of you from how his hand touched your shoulder. You followed the older male towards your room, muttering a soft "see you later" to michael as you passed his larger form. 

His eyes followed you as doctor Loomis started speaking to him, not paying attention to his psychologist talk until he mentioned your name. 

"Now Michael, I see that you're interested in (y/n). It's odd because I've been your psychiatrist for many years and never once you showed any reactions. Why her?" 

'Why her?' Michael thought to himself as he stared blankly at the older male. There was something peculiar about (y/n) that made him desire you. It wasn't the ever so familiar blood lust that he usually has.

It was a warm feeling that lingered as he thought more about you. You reminded him of a stray kitten, helpless and scared, yet so innocent compared to him. The fact that you were the grandchild of his psychiatrist only drove Michael further into wanting you around him, even if it pisses Loomis off.


	2. Blossoming Obsessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since a lot of people liked part one and wanted another part, here's part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: vomiting, mentions of mental illnesses such as OCD/ compulsive skin picking, descriptions of hallucinations. If you're going through similar stuff, please make use of the resources

When you walked out of the cafeteria with one of the guards, you took in the view of the hallway briefly as the bigger guard walked you towards your room. The hall looked infinite with the amount of doors that housed people who were various degrees of mental issues that made you feel bad for. 

The guard pushed you inside of your room rather harshly, locking the door behind him as you sat on the sorry excuse of a mattress. Your dull (e/c) eyes flickered to the pealing white walls as you thought back on your encounter with the mysteriously dangerous Michael Myers. There was something curious, yet strange about him that you desired deeply.

Maybe it was the way he spoke to you- even if it was to thank you- when from all of your grandfather's stories, he couldn't even get a response from Michael. Or perhaps it was how he didn't kill you like all of the rumors from both your grandfather and the media outlets said. You're aware that Michael was a ticking time bomb fixing to explode when the time becomes right.

Your hands instantly roamed your skin as you tried to let your mind wonder off to your own thoughts and daydreams as you tried to cancel out the sounds of screams and cries of the other patients that echoed from the hall that seemed to never end. 

Michael sat at the desk of his room, his hands skillfully creating the form of the paper mask as his mind went towards (Y/n) Loomis. Knowing that Dr. Loomis was reluctant to allowing his grandchild to be around him, Michael wanted the young Loomis to himself. 

The familiar form of his mother in all white was across the small room from him as Michel turned his head, seeing his younger form in front of his mother. 

"Michael, that Loomis kid is yours. They could help you find Boo." His mother smiled sweetly, her heavenly presence made Michael feel like a he was a child before he ended up in Smith's Grove. She continued, her curls framed her face.

"I know you find them interesting. Go ahead and get close to her." Younger Michael responds with an "Okay Mommy" as both child him and his mom disappeared. 

It wasn't until the next morning when you saw Michael again. You've just taken your morning dose of medications when you entered the cafeteria. 

Soft chattering of some of the inmates filled the horrid room as the guard roughly escorted you inside. Grabbing the ends of your uniform, you held onto the plastic tray as the food was flopped carelessly onto your tray. 

Once you gotten your milk carton and cup of water, you strolled towards the table where Michael was sitting with his food. As you got to his table, Michael looked up at you while you smiled, sitting across him. 

"Morning Michael." You wiped the container of the milk carton seven times before you finally opened the top. Taking a sip of your milk, a faint milk mustache appeared on your upper lip.

The next thing you know, you feel Michael's calloused thumb rubbed the milk mustache off your lip. A crimson blush appeared on your cheeks as he pulled his hand back to his tray of food 

"T-thanks." You bashfully looked down to your food. Glancing at the thick lumpy oatmeal, you decided to eat the slice of bread instead.

Michael's eyes were fixated at you, causing a wave of anxiety through your body as you tried to hold your anxiousness in. Your heart was beating rapidly as you feel your cheeks burn up from bashfulness. 

You tried distracting yourself by trying to stomach the oatmeal. The taste of blandness and the runny- yet lumpy texture of the oatmeal made you want to vomit. Luckily, you forced yourself to eat it.

The two of you ate in silence as the two of you finished breakfast. You stared at the mind begins to wonder off to your life back at home before your parents decided to send you away.

You weren't ever the type of person who liked having all the attention towards you. Instead, you would rather be in the background; reading and (your favorite hobby) while others prefer to be social.

Understandably, your parents were concerned about how quiet and withdrawn you were from the outside world. They wanted the best for you and they concluded that you were more of an introvert and would eventually grow out of your shell.

Then came your obsession with germs and the daily rituals of cleaning after yourself multiple times a day. If your schedule ends up affecting your daily ritual, the panic attacks and intrusive thoughts begin to take control.

It wasn't until the discovered your scared and scab covered flesh from the skin picking was when they were finally convinced that they needed to get you help. 

Between your parents and grandpa Loomis trying to convince you to check yourself into Smith's Grove and the threat of getting kicked out with no money, you took the institutionalized route. 

Michael looked at your spaced out form curiously. He wondered what thoughts that you had running through your mind. Shrugging the thought off as the side effects of a change in medication doses, he finished his breakfast. 

The way you chew your bottom lip gently while you're in thought made Michael wonder even more why such a normal person who's the Grandchild of Loomis would end up in the very hell hole that Michael has made his home after many years.

He knew that you didn't have the heart to cause harm or to kill people. You looked too innocent for a life of crime. Michael's eyes looked at your now exposed arms, the scars and wounds scattered your (skin tone) skin. 

The myriad of scars on your skin made you look exotic looking compared to other people that Michael has seen. Similar to you, Michael also had a plethora of scars that littered throughout his body from all of the times that victims have attempted to fight back. 

"Michael, are you okay?" You asked cautiously as you interrupted his own wandering thoughts. "If it's the scars on my arms, it's just my compulsive skin picking. I do it a lot." You ran your smaller hand through your hair as Michael continued to stare blankly at you.

"Some say it's a nervous habit, others say it's a form of self soothing for when some people go through stressful times. I know they look gruesome but my arms are much clearer than my legs or stomach." you rambled anxiously as Michael nodded.

Just as you were about to speak up, an guard walked to the table that the two of you were sitting with a blank look on her face. "(Y/n) Loomis? Your grandfather would like to speak to you. It's an urgent matter." 


End file.
